


It's A Zoo in This Place

by aileenrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute Kids, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Teacher Castiel, Tour Guide Dean, Zoo, unadulterated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aileenrose/pseuds/aileenrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel just wants to get through a field trip, and Dean's more than just a tour guide in really tight shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Zoo in This Place

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompt:  
> au. dean is a zookeeper. castiel is a kindergarten teacher. field trip of course to the zoo. dean is very nice to the children and shows them the monkeys and penguins and the lions. him and cas eye each other sSecRetLY!!! (very obviously) cas gives him his number. cuteness

Cas, counting off heads, knows that he’s in for a long day as soon as he finds he’s one head short.

                Stepping back onto the bus, he finds Ava hunched in one of the last seats, crying pitifully.

                “Ava, sweetie, what’s the matter?” He says, stopping to kneel next to her seat.

                “Be—Bela says we’re going to see the manatees today!” Ava wails.

                “I’m not sure what we’re going to be seeing yet, but we won’t see manatees if you’re afraid of them.”

                “I’m not _afraid_ ,” Ava says defensively, snapping her head up to glare fiercely at him. “I’m real angry right now.”

                “And why are you angry?” The bus driver shifts in his seat, impatient, and Cas holds up a finger, nodding.

                “’Cause Bela said one of them’s my mom!” Ava dissolves into sobs again.

                Cas nods, looking down, as he unfolds a tissue from his pocket. Beyond a candy bar for Benny’s low blood sugar, and the inhaler for Victor, it’s one of the few necessities he always needs to carry with him.

                “I promise you, Ava, that your mother is _not_ a manatee, and you won’t be seeing her at the zoo today. And later we’ll have Bela apologize for making a—

                “A dis—a distful—a dee-tasteful remark,” Ava says, letting Cas tip her head back and wipe her snotty nose.

                “There we go,” Cas says. “Now, are you ready to come join the others?”

                Ava nods and pushes off the seat, leading the way as Cas nods gratefully to the bus driver, stepping out. Out on the hot asphalt, Cas Milton’s kindergarten class of thirteen wait, a few of them straggling to poke at grass poking up through the cement, Garth talking animatedly, without pausing for breath, about the huge “croc-o-dill” his father had caught with his _bare hands_ , Adam with a finger shoved up his nose, Bela scoffing behind him in disgust.

                “Okay, guys, does every remember their buddy?” Cas says. There’s a brief mill of motion as the children hastily rearrange themselves. “Come here, Anna, honey, I’m your buddy for today.”

                Anna blushes and trips up next to him, inserting her small hand into his.

                “Now, we’re all going to stick together, and walk in an orderly line, remember? Once we go through the gates, someone who works for the zoo is going to be our tour guide. Remember to be polite, and listen, and say thank you when it’s over.”

                Cas turns and leads the way into the zoo, turning his head every so often to make sure that everyone was keeping up. The kids have been besides themselves all week, learning about the different animals—their colors, shapes, and sounds—that they’d be seeing at the zoo on Friday. Yesterday, Tracy had slid bonelessly to the floor during their spelling exercise, so overwhelmed by the prospect of the field trip that all she could do was lie there, limp noodle-like, staring at the ceiling.

                The children titter behind him as they walk through the visitor’s gate, bypassing the small queue lined up to buy their tickets. He can tell they feel important, looking at each other with glee, and it makes him smile. Cas has been just as excited about this field trip, knowing how much they’ll enjoy it.

                There’s a tall man waiting for them outside the visitors’ zoo guide, he’s wearing a white polo with the zoo’s logo tucked into almost indecently tight red shorts. Cas knows it’s the outfit that all the guides have to wear, but it’s still very—eye-catching. The man slides up his sunglasses as they approach and Cas is then thinking that he’s eye-catching for a very different reason.

                “Hi, guys,” the man says brightly, waving at the kindergartners. “My name’s Dean, and I’m gonna show you all around the zoo today, and teach you some really neat stuff. We’re gonna go see the monkeys, first—how cool is that?”

                “Cool,” Ash drawls out, and Dean double-takes at the five-year-old’s mullet before his face breaks into wide grin.

                “I’m glad to see some of you are excited,” he says. “Come on, follow me—let’s get started!”

                The guide is good with kids, Cas decides, chatty and exuberant without being too over-the-top. Even so, most of the kids are trailing behind Cas shyly, still too hesitant to walk closely to Dean. From behind, Cas can see that Dean’s a bit bow-legged—it would be impossible to _not_ notice, given how tight his shorts are—and finds that he thinks it’s incredibly endearing.

                He quickly looks away as Dean turns, walking backwards to address the group as he goes.

                “So, the monkeys were about to see are _tamarins_. Does anyone know what makes monkeys different from apes?”

                The class gives him a befuddled silence.

                To Cas’s surprise, Dean’s eyes dart over to his, a challenging gleam in them. “Can _you_ tell me, Mister Milton?”

                Cas gives him a small smile. “As a rule of thumb: monkeys have tails; apes don’t.”

                Dean gives an impressed whistle, and takes a Jolly Rancher out of his pocket. He tosses it to Cas, who catches it deftly in his hands.

                “Mister Milton gets a prize for being so smart, don’t you agree?”

                “Mister Milton is _really_ smart,” Anna pipes up, almost protectively, like she thought Dean had said the opposite.

                At the tamarin enclosure, Cas hangs back and watches the kids gawk at the monkeys, screaming in awe every time one of them leaps from one branch to the other. Dean tells them a few talking points—things that Cas knows will be repeated to parents that night, amazing them with their kindergartner’s random trivia—and hands out a few more Jolly Ranchers. Every so often, Dean will catch Cas’s eye at the back of the crowd, and once—when the children are swarming against the window, tapping the glass and hollering, he winks. Cas blushes and unfolds a trip itinerary from his pocket.

                “Penguins next?” He calls, and Dean salutes him.

                “On to the penguins,” he says, chivvying the class before him. “Hey, guys, what’s black and white and read all over?”

                “A _penguin_ ,” Bela says slowly, disdain dripping from every word. Cas hides a smile in his hand.

                At the penguin exhibit, Dean and Cas hang back while the children crowd close to the edge of the railing, wrinkling their noses at the fishy smell. Benny lets out a whoop of delight when a penguin goes diving off the rock it was bathing on, and the kids go chasing it around the corner of the railing, trying to keep up.

                “Seems like you have a good handle on the kids,” Dean remarks.

                “I’m adequate at being their teacher, yes,” Cas says.

                Dean shrugs. “Some of these teachers coming in, the kids have them wrapped around their thumbs. Go absolutely nuts in here; out of control. I can tell they all really love you, though.”

                “Oh, yeah?” Cas looks sideways at Dean. He has freckles, he notices, now that he can see him close-up. And gorgeously green eyes.

                “Hearts in their eyes and everything,” Dean says. He looks back at the class and says, “Hey, everyone, here’s a fact about penguins: they mate for life.” His arm brushes against Cas’s, purposely, as he walks away.

                They go to through the petting zoo, and then the aquarium—“ _Nemo_!” Victor had cried in distress, hands squeaking down the glass as he slumped to his knees, wailing—and then it was time for lunch. Dean led them to four shaded picnic tables, where a zoo volunteer was already setting out paper lunchbags and Capri Suns.

                “Hey, Cas, do you want to—” Dean says, but Cas holds up a finger and walks over to the volunteer.

                “Which one has no cheese?” He asks. “Gabe is lactose intolerant. Also, one of them is specifically supposed to be meatless—”

                Once they get the lunch bags sorted out, Cas heads back to Dean, who’s sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him at one of the empty tables. His sunglasses are back on, but he smiles lazily as Cas approaches from the other side of the picnic area, making him think that Dean’s been watching him the whole time. He feels a pleasant wave of heat in his stomach.

                “Sorry about that,” Cas says. “What were you saying?”

                “I was going to invite you to be part of my buddy system over here,” Dean says, patting the bench next to him. “But I can see you couldn’t have stayed away, anyways.”

                “Of course,” Cas says. He sits down next to Dean, fishing into his bunched lunch bag to retrieve the sandwich and bag of carrots inside it. “Don’t you have anything to eat?”

                “Me? Nah. I get a lunch break in an hour or so. I have another tour after this one.”

                “I see,” Cas says. He slowly unwraps the Saran Wrap from around his sandwich. “Are you hungry, though?”

                Dean turns to look at him. “Are you offering?”

                Cas rips off half his sandwich and hands it to him. He wants to say something witty, or casual, but Dean’s grateful, genuine smile, the relish with which he bites into the PB&J, makes him pause.

                “How long have you been a guide?” He asks, as soon as Dean’s swallowed.

                Dean shrugs. “A year or so. My goal is actually to become a zoologist; I’m taking classes at State. Meantime, volunteering here lets me get in good for when I eventually apply. Plus, at some point I might even be able to intern with one of the wildlife biologists here.”

                “And if you did, what kind of animals would you want to work with?”

                “The big cats,” Dean says, stopping to consider before he takes another bite. “Especially the endangered ones. There’s something about all that pent-up energy, and their power—they fascinate me.”

                “Plus,” he says, stopping to take a sip of Cas’s Capri Sun without asking, “Some of those animals need all the help they need to save them from the verge of extinction. If I could be part of the solution, giving them a habitat and the means to successfully reproduce, I would be pretty satisfied with that.”

                “A very worthy goal,” Cas says, staring at Dean’s wetted lips for a moment before looking away, back down at his sandwich.

                “It’s probably all just crap,” Dean says abruptly. “I mean, I’m sure you hear long-shot pipe dreams every day. _I want to be an astronaut_ , _I want to be a princess_ , that kind of thing.”

                “I’m not in the business of telling children about what’s unrealistic,” Cas says. “I actually think it would be better if they never learned the word at all.” He shrugs and gestures around them. “It seems like you’re well on your way, at any rate. You’re here, aren’t you?”

                “Yeah,” Dean says, his lips quirking in a smile. Cas can’t see his eyes, but he has a feeling Dean is looking at him very intensely. Their knees nudge together. “Yeah, I am.”

                Maybe it’s just him, but right then, Cas could swear he’s so happy that he’s radiating light, warmed by it, seeping from his pores.

                After collecting the uneaten food and trash, the group of them troop to the tiger’s exhibit—a place that Cas knows, now, is close to Dean’s heart. Dean brings them right up to the glassy enclosure and shows them where to look, in a shadowy, rocky grotto—a female tiger, nursing her young.

                Kevin starts pounding on the glass. “What’s up, tiger mommy!” He screams, trying to get its attention. “What’s _up_?”

                After the children settle down a little, Dean tells them some facts about tigers, about their endangered status, about what the zoo is doing to help them. Then he pulls out his phone and shows the kindergartners and Cas a picture of him holding one of the cubs, its eyes still slitted in its face, barely the size of a guinea pig.

                “Living the dream,” he says, giving Cas a confidential smile, and Cas holds his gaze, smiling back, and Dean’s ears turn a little red, not looking away, which is why it takes ten seconds or so to notice that Bela’s been using the opportunity to scroll through more of his pictures—“Hey, now,” he says quickly. “There are some things you kids here don’t need to see.”

                (“Dean, that’s what my mommy wears, too,” Garth says, pulling on Dean’s shorts for an explanation, and Cas enjoys seeing the skin all around Dean’s freckles flush bright red.)

                After that, only one thing is left on the itinerary—the trip to see the lions. The kids are slowing down, zombie-like, starting to get grouchy. They crowd forward, murmuring in interest, when the lion’s enclosure comes into view—there’s a sizable pride, sleek and golden, and the large male lion lording over them, sunbathing on a rock.

                As the kids press their noses against the glass, watching silently, a few things happen at once:

                Dean sidles up to Cas, handing him a small white card with his name and the zoo’s logo on it.

                “I have to go lead another tour soon, but I wanted you to have this,” he says, fidgeting nervously. “Feel free to set up any further tours with me. Uh, exclusively.” Cas, smiling a bit in confusion, is reaching forward for it when there’s a ripple of gasps among the kindergartners, and he turns in time to see the male lion lining up behind one of the females—

                Gabe, who has been suspiciously well-behaved on this trip, jumps up on a bench, pointing dramatically, and bellows, “Those lions are _humping_!” This with the kind of glee that comes with saying a word he knows he shouldn’t know.

                “Humping, humping!” The kindergartners start chanting.

                It takes a few minutes for Cas to wade in there, pulling them away from the sight of the two lions and further down the path where they could calm themselves down. When he looks around for Dean’s tall form, his sandy hair, he finds he’s nowhere to be seen. He turns around in a circle, but finally realizes that Dean is gone.

                He feels a bit annoyed that he wasn’t able to say goodbye—he doesn’t know why he cares, though. It was a pretty simple transaction—them on  a field trip, him as their guide. All the same, it takes him a moment to figure out where they’re going next: to the rotunda, so one of the volunteers can take a class picture of them all standing in front of the statue of a prowling lion.

                Cas works at trying to keep the frustration from his voice as he tries to order the kids in some semblance of a line—the kids are uncooperative, drooping, and he’s tired himself. Finally, he sternly warns them to make no faces and steps into the back row, waiting for the countdown.

                Over the volunteer’s blonde head, he sees another group of children walking through the visitor’s entrance. He sees Dean greeting the pretty teacher, shaking her hand and giving her a wide, flirtatious smile, sees the way he starts talking to the kids with wide-eyed animation.

                “3…2…1…” The volunteer is saying, and Cas doesn’t know what to make of the sudden drop in his stomach. This is Dean’s _job_. Putting on an act, faking enthusiasm, putting the class through their paces. He’ll probably challenge this new teacher with trivia, wink at her over students’ heads, sitting close to her on a bench, letting himself be fed; press a little white card into her hand at the end of it, putting an end to the charade, ensuring a client base. The whole day had been a simple transaction, but no one ever said you couldn’t flirt with attractive teachers on the job.

                “Say cheese!” The volunteer says, and Cas realizes too late that she’s taken the picture, with him glaring off over her head.

                He has to usher the kindergartners out through the visitors entrance, where for some reason Dean and his new tour group are still there, Dean going through a spiel about the zoo that he didn’t give Cas and his class. He wonders if Dean is stalling for some reason, although he doesn’t know why, and as he passes, he can’t help himself—he looks up, and sees Dean already looking at him, with this hopeful, shy smile  that he can’t account for, and as he sees it he shutters down, unconsciously giving Dean what his class calls his “scary Mister Milton face”—at any rate, Dean’s face falls and he quickly looks away .

                Once on the bus, he counts heads again—thirteen, everyone accounted for—and finally lets his groaning kindergarten class doze off in exhaustion.

                Cas, sitting in the front seat, leans his head against the window and sighs. It’s been a long time since he felt a warm rush of butterflies in his stomach, had a conversation that could be filling in the same way that sandwiches and cold Capri Suns are. It had been a long time, too long, since he thought he had a connection with someone. It’s no secret that most of the people in his profession were female—not helpful, when his predilections tilted in the direction of bowlegs and kind crinkles on the corners of eyes and an engaging, challenging personality that could draw him out of his shell.

                Oh well, Cas thinks. At least the kids got something out of the day.

                The bus trundles into the school parking lot a half hour later, with minivans and cars already lined up to pick up the class. Cas stands by and watches to make sure each kid is picked up. Last off the bus is Anna, who extends a little white card towards Cas.

                “Mister Milton, this was on the floor,” she says.

                Cas gives it a brief look, not really recognizing it, as his eyes sweep across the lot, looking for Anna’s mother. “The nice bus driver has a trash can behind you, you can throw it away there.”

                ”But how will you know the numbers?” Cas turns back and sees Anna’s lower lip sticking out in a pout.

                “What was that, sweetie?”

                “I founded this by your seat,” Anna says. “How will you know the numbers if it goes in the trash can?”

                Disbelieving, Cas reaches forward and takes the slip of paper from her. He must’ve shoved it in his pocket, forgotten about it, but now that he sees it, he remembers how Dean had nervously given it to him. The front of the card, which only gives his name, job, and availability, isn’t what interests him. When he flips it over, he sees the penciled scrawl of a phone number.

                “Thank you, Anna,” he says, tucking it with more care into his breast pocket. “I definitely know the numbers now.”

**

                When Cas next goes to the zoo, it’s in the early evening. It’s a Sunday, and the zoo is closed, but that doesn’t matter to Cas, who has two brown-bagged dinners and a hopeful expression.

                Dean’s waiting at the visitor’s entrance, wearing frayed jeans and a plaid button-up over a t-shirt. He looks relaxed, carefree, and when he straightens up from his slump against the wall, coming towards him, Cas can see how wide his smile is.

                They come to a stop in front of each other.

                “Hello, Dean,” Cas says. “I’ve, uh, come for my exclusive tour.”

                “Good,” Dean says. The corners of his eyes are crinkling again. “I’ve got a lot I want to show you.”

                “Me too,” Cas says, and laughs when Dean tips his chin up and kisses the corner of his mouth, and smiles into his skin, and lingers in a way that promises butterflies, warmth, overwhelming light.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all lovely readers!  
> I took a brief vacation from the angst. It's kinda...pleasant over here. 
> 
>  
> 
> paperclothesline.tumblr.com


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